


Early Shift

by nischi



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU, Hannibal is a ceo, Hannigram - Freeform, I suppose, M/M, Student Will Graham, University AU, coffee shop AU, will is a barista
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 02:36:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4689272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nischi/pseuds/nischi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-shot coffee shop AU, Hannibal is a business man who likes his hot beans early</p>
            </blockquote>





	Early Shift

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd, just a cute little one-shot

Will Graham regretted agreeing to take the early shift. It sounded perfect, in theory - he could work before class, and still have enough time later in the afternoon to study. It was only for the year, after all. 

But when his alarm went off at 4:00am, Will Graham was ready to commit murder. 

He scrubbed his face with cold water and threw on his glasses, strolling rather more forcefully than necessary down the street towards the small bakery. 

A quaint little cafe, just a few blocks from campus. Will had come across it after a particularly bad series of lectures and had fallen in love with the place. The lights were kept low, and the smell of crusty, secret-family-recipe home-baked bread clung to every corner. The owner had tried to talk to Will in very rapid Italian, before realising the poor student could not pick up a single word.

Well, that's not strictly true. He knew, "caffè, per favore". 

The owner; a small, rounded, jolly middle-aged man immediately grew a liking for the boy, and they managed to get along with brief conversations in a broken mixture of languages. Upon learning that Will was looking for work to keep him funded through his year abroad, the Italian was only too happy to offer him a job. 

Will snapped at the chance. 

...He really should've considered learning some Italian first, though. 

Will had initially been doing afternoon shifts, but with a packed university schedule and all the assignments, he had asked to change and work the earlies instead. 

And it was thusly that he found himself putting the first loaves into the oven at 5:00am sharp. The cafe opened at 6, allowing for the few aficionados who enjoyed professionally brewed beans before work. 

At least Will had, by now, learnt the basics of coffee orders in Italian. Some of the more odd orders he had to ask for clarity, or sneakily google translate it behind the counter, but he appreciated the work. And the pay check. 

******

Hannibal wound his bike around the streets. The engine purred over the smooth cobbled stones at such a speed that the cracks were barely noticeable. 

He was preparing himself for what could possibly become the most tediously monotonous business meeting of the month, and so Hannibal had decided to start his day as best as possible. 

With a visit to Lucino's. 

He slowed down as he turned another few corners, nearing the small bakery. The scent of warm bread and rich, decadent pastries wafted ahead. Hannibal breathed it in. It was glorious. 

Turning off the engine, the CEO gracefully swung his leg across the dark red motorbike's reflective chassis, and smoothed down his blazer. Pulling down the coat tails, he adjusted his cuffs and his sunglasses. It was 6:30am but the sun was making its presence known, rather invasively. Hannibal kicked down the stand and slinked across cobbles and pavement stones to his destination, flipping the keys on their ring between his strong fingers. 

The street smelled like ground coffee. 

He pushed open the glass door, heard the faint ringing of a bell alerting the staff to his presence. Walking towards his semi-regular table in the far corner, out of view of the counter, he grabbed a daily newspaper from the stand. 

Sitting down in a plush red armchair, Hannibal crossed his legs; one foot resting on the opposing knee. He pulled off his sunglasses and teased the end of a leg with his pearly teeth, sucking gently as he considered his order. 

"C-can I take your order?" Asked a hesitant voice, in heavily accented Italian. 

Hannibal looked up to see a lanky boy standing beside him; no more than maybe 20 years old, unshaven with dark rimmed glasses and a thick mop of hair. He was holding a pen and a pad of paper, clutching them tight as he tried to remember his script. 

Hannibal removed a cigarette from the golden holder he kept in his inner breast pocket. Balancing it on his lip, he looked over the boy. The drawn-out silence was clearly leaving the kid restless, his nerves bristling as he shifted the weight from one foot to another. 

"Coffee, black. And a Danish pastry, per favore." Hannibal smirked. 

The waiter stood still for a moment, before slowly nodding and walking back towards the counter. Hannibal's eyes followed, watching the movement of muscles beneath pale, thin chinos. Exactly the right sight to start his morning well. 

*****

Will stood by the coffee machine, still confused. His first customer of the day had, for some reason, ordered in English, and Will wasn't very sure why. 

Is this what normally happened on a morning shift? He really should've asked the manager to run him through it, he hadn't expected it to be so different to an afternoon shift. It wasn't exactly a tourist coffee shop. 

Will had paused briefly, lost in the moment staring at the cigarette hanging from the man's mouth. A deep, rich voice tumbled out and painted the air around him with notes. It resonated somewhere in his gut; thank God for aprons...

Will removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It was way too early to be dealing with this kind of thing. 

He made the coffee, placed the danish on a small plate, and carried the tray to the waiting customer. 

The suited man was engrossed in this morning's paper, and Will took a moment to appreciate his appearance. It was easier to look when the man wasn't looking back. 

A grey suit stretched neatly over every limb, pulling tightly around muscled arms. It was clearly a very expensive,  _very_  fitted suit. The man worked hard for his physique and was arrogant enough to want to show it off. 

Will would have assumed it was an Italian suit, but, perhaps in Italy those suits were easier to come by and less impressive? 

Not that the price mattered. It fit the man  _well_ . 

The sunglasses that had been previously dangling from his mouth were now perched upon his head. Graham wasn't really good with expensive brands, but he recognised the logo designs when he saw them. 

The man even matched his pocket square to his pinstripe pale blue silk tie. 

Damn. He was attractive. 

And Will smelled like coffee grinds. 

The man turned to look at Will. Will realised he hadn't placed the tray down yet, and did so hastily. 

"A black coffee with a danish, sir."

The business man bristled. A warm smile spread across his face, the cigarette half burnt. He made eye contact with the barista, and nodded his head in thanks. Will blushed, hard. 

*****

It had been almost a month since Will had started working the early shift. He was starting to get himself into a (reasonable) routine (for 4am) and still managing to keep up with his classes. Sure, he had nodded off once or twice through American Studies but, Will figured, of all the classes surely that was the most harmless. Besides, at least he  _actually_  showed up. 

There were a few regular customers between 6 and 10am, but by far the most intriguing was the man in the suits. 

He showed up once or twice a week, always early, always alone. And  _always_  in a sharply fitted suit. 

It was enough to get Will Graham to look twice. 

After stuttering his way through a few more questions, the man began to converse with him in accented English. Will was grateful; it made a nice change from merely hearing his language whilst learning in his classes. He hadn't realised how much he had missed it. Choosing to take a year abroad was a great decision, but Will's lack of European schooling meant that he was limited to universities that taught in English. His classmates spoke to him but he wasn't quite on speaking terms with most of them, and he missed the harsh tongue. 

But right now, studying in Italy felt like the best decision in the world. 

The business man had introduced himself as one Doctor Hannibal Lecter; CEO and private investor. Of what, Will never pried, but he was sure it was something important. He had a doctorate, of course. 

Will had come to find himself sitting down to chat with Hannibal, discussing current events and the like. He had noticed the number of customers at this early hour dwindling, but chalked it up to pure chance. Maybe they had moved on to another bakery. 

"Working here must surely cut into your social life, Will. Are you making enough time to enjoy the area?" Hannibal asked. 

"Y-yeah, I get by. I have a few friends on my course, but it's kinda hard to go out and meet new people." 

Will had brewed Hannibal a dark coffee; the beans from some dark tropical rainforest on another continent. He watched as the blond man cut his pastry, neatly, into smaller parts. He lifted a piece to his mouth, before looking to Will and asking, "Would you like a piece?"

Will blinked rapidly, processing the question. He realised that, actually, he hadn't tried many of the pastries that he baked every morning. Nodding in agreement, he moved to pick up a slice - only to recoil when Hannibal instead raised the piece he was holding to Will's mouth. 

Will blushed, but cautiously accepted it. His tongue made brief contact with the pad of Hannibal's thumb, and his cheeks darkened even further. 

A spark flickered across Hannibal's dark eyes, and Will was almost certain Hannibal was enjoying himself. He had pushed his thumb closer on purpose; to watch Will squirm. 

"Would you like someone to show you the local culture?" Hannibal asked politely, a low rumble in his tone. 

Will shot up, clenched his fists by his sides and could practically feel the heat exuding from his face. 

"I should be getting back to the counter, now." He walked stiffly and mechanically to the front of house, willing away the growing heat in his pants. 

As he leaned over the front of the counter to put away his pen and pad, he felt a hot presence behind him. Towering over him. 

Will turned slowly, noting the two hands that trapped him up against the wooden countertop. He looked up at Hannibal, skin prickling with heat and want, breathing heavy. He hadn't noticed his breathing get so heavy. 

Before he could stop himself, Will reached up and snagged his hands in the hair at the nape of Hannibal's neck. It was cool to the touch, styled in place with some product or another. 

Their faces clashed together in a manic heat, displacing any air between them. 

Hannibal pushed Will back, hips against the desk. He ground his clothed erection into Will's, smirking. 

Will was suddenly very grateful for the lack of customers. 


End file.
